


The Deck 12 Recreational Lounge

by gundamoocow



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Come Eating, D/s elements, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, M/M, Tumblr: kyluxhardkinks, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-26 23:04:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9928022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gundamoocow/pseuds/gundamoocow
Summary: Missed connection: I was Leader of Besh TIE squadron, you were the redhead being plowed against the windows of the deck twelve recreation lounge. We didn't speak because I was twenty meters off the forward port side, but our eyes met just before you came. I sincerely think you might be the one for me. Please get in touch.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the following [kyluxhardkinks](http://kyluxhardkinks.tumblr.com/) prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> _"Missed connection: I was Leader of Besh TIE squadron, you were the redhead being plowed against the windows of the deck twelve recreation lounge. We didn't speak because I was twenty meters off the forward port side, but our eyes met just before you came. I sincerely think you might be the one for me. Please get in touch." (Or- Armitage Hux really needs to stop letting Ren fuck him in public and Phasma should probably crack down on the unofficial First Order newspaper)_

Hux bends over the back of the lounge chair, bracing his hands against the firm seat cushion, while Ren pops off the cap off a well-used bottle of personal lubricating oil. This is not a position that General Hux circa six standard months ago would have seen himself in, and as Ren pours the warm oil over the cleft of his arse, Hux has little regret. He shuffles from foot to foot, adjusting so he can arch his lower back a little in order to stick his rear out and make himself available to Ren.

The oil slowly drips down Hux’s crack and past his arsehole. It clings to his skin as it flows down his balls. Stars knew why Ren poured so much. With a mix of disgust and depraved thrill, Hux realises that the oil will eventually collect on the back of the chair and soak into the dark red fabric, leaving a tangible record of their misdeeds.

“Finger yourself,” Ren says. Orders.

Shifting his weight to his left hand, Hux reaches behind and slides his fingers from the top of his crack and down. The skin is slippery smooth. It's yet another thing that Hux let Ren goad him into; the night before, Hux summoned a cosmetic droid to the privacy of his own quarters, had it laser away all of his pubic hair, then promptly erased its memory. Now he reaps the frictionless reward. His fingers glide down and two slip effortlessly into him.

Depraved.

It’s all depraved. Wearing a plug all day to keep himself open is depraved, off cycle or no. Especially with his tendency to wander onto the bridge with a cup of caf in hand, in uniform even when he’s not on duty. His clueless subordinates gawk up him just the same when he stands over their consoles whether his arsehole is squeezing around the neck of a thick bulbous plug or not.

Fornicating with Ren in an empty officer’s lounge is depraved. Giving into every one of that man’s filthy requests is depraved. The ludicrous number of sex toys he now owns is depraved.

Horrid, all of it. And yet he’s never felt so alive.

He withdraws his two fingers and easily slides in three. He fucks himself with them, in and out, and it feels so _good_ after the static weight of the plug.

“Someone could walk through that door any moment,” Ren muses, sounding almost bored. “See your skinny fingers stuffed in that pink hole between those pasty ass cheeks.”

Hux’s face burns and his hard cock pulses, no doubt leaking its own fluid to add to the stain on the chair.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” Ren continues and Hux struggles not to hump the chair. Friction burns from vigorously rubbing into fabric are never pleasant. “A few horny officers, fresh off their shift, open the door and find _you_ ready and willing.”

They both know it can’t happen. The door is locked with the highest security codes.

“Will you fuck me already?” Hux strains.

“Is that how it’s gonna be today?” Ren asks, and Hux can hear the grin in Ren’s voice.

“Come on.” Hux tries to say it sharply. To the point. Not like begging. Not at all like begging. “Just do it. Get on with it.”

He can’t help thrusting into himself faster. Fuck, he hates when Ren makes him wait. He loves when Ren makes him wait. Ren is no doubt watching his struggle and stroking himself off quietly so Hux can’t hear him.

Patience, however, has its limits. Hux hoists himself up with the hand that’s not practically up his own arse. As he suspected, Ren is slack-jawed and tossing like a madman, obviously lost in the fantasy he conjured.

“ _Ren!_ ”

Ren groans and drags his hand away from his cock, then lumbers over. He nudges Hux’s hand out of the way. Hux puts it down on the cushion in front of him, bracing himself. The slick from his hand will surely leave another mark on the innocent chair.

Seemingly content to let Hux suffer instead of giving him the fucking that he rightfully deserves, Ren pokes around at his hole with a finger.

“You’re loose as hell,” he says, amused.

“Yes, well. I used the big one today.” Hux mumbles the last sentence, not that it will make a difference.

Immediately, Ren quits dilly-dallying and slides all the way in with a single stroke until Hux feels the weight of him against the backs of his thighs. It’s not much of a stretch, not like their first union, when it took almost the entire night for Ren to get even the head of his monstrous cock into him.

They’ve come a long way since then.

“Fuck,” Ren says breathlessly.

After a moment’s pause, Ren begins to thrust, slowly at first, but he quickly increases his pace until the sound of skin slapping against skin echos off the walls. Hux needs to jerk off, but for the moment, he’s trapped between Ren and the back of the chair. Abruptly, Ren pulls out and yanks Hux up by the hips, turning him around and lifting him clean off the floor. Hux sees where this is going and wraps his legs around Ren’s waist. Ren carries him to the nearest table, a surface far too small for this activity, and puts him down before sliding in again.

Hux looks up at Ren, all sweaty and wild like some untamed beast, claiming Hux for his own. _What a stupid thought_. A stupid thought that makes him struggle to thrust his hips to meet Ren’s strokes.

The table creaks below them, and Hux is about to express his concern for its integrity when Ren swears and snatches Hux up just as the table gives way. Hux is too far gone to care about the fate of a table while Ren’s cock impales him so thoroughly.

Ren walks them over to the expansive window with his cock still buried in Hux and Hux clinging to his massive, muscular shoulders. Hux yelps as Ren presses him against the cold transparisteel, but then relaxes when Ren starts fucking him again. Unlike the table, the windows are too well-made to be destroyed by fucking, but the thought of the two of them tumbling through shattered transparisteel into the vacuum of space sends a chill down Hux’s spine and nearly kills his erection.

“Can you do me from behind?”

“Already did,” Ren says, not bothering to stop his violent plowing.

“No, not like--” It’s hard to form sentences in this sort of state. “Want to look-- Outside--”

Ren seems to get it and pulls out, carefully lowering Hux down. Hux can’t stand to be left empty for longer than necessary and quickly turns around to brace his hands against the window and present his arse to Ren. When Ren slides in again, it’s perfect. Each stroke sends him closer and closer. Hux holds off touching himself, wanting to synchronise to Ren.

In the space beyond, the TIE fighters practice their manoeuvres and small personnel carriers ferry people to and fro. Here, in the lounge, Ren fucks into Hux like both of their lives depend on it.

“Look,” Ren says into Hux’s ear. His voice is raspy. “The fighters are coming in.”

Hux looks up through his disheveled hair to see the TIE fighters making their landing approach one by one.

“Can they see us?” Hux asks. They shouldn’t. They should be focussed on their job, not peeping at rooms within the _Finalizer_.

“Doubt it,” Ren says. “But maybe we should give them a show anyway.”

Ren nibbles Hux’s ear, then latches onto the flesh of his shoulder just as he begins his final stretch. Hux moans, each smooth stroke sending pangs of pleasure through him. Ren grunts just as Hux gets a good grip around his poor, neglected cock, which he is now unable to resist touching. He pumps himself over and over, letting out a string of moans and expletives. He can never keep his mouth shut during these things.

He’s close, but he still wants to time himself to finish with Ren, if he can. “Ren, are you--”

“Uh huh,” Ren utters desperately, so Hux grasps his cock firmly and gives it a final few good, hard strokes.

Hux screams as he comes against the window just after a fighter passes almost dangerously close. Hux would have jumped away from the surprise if not for Ren trapping him from behind.

“Fuck. Hux. Fuck. I’m coming. I’m coming.”

With how hard Ren is slamming into him, Hux is perfectly aware that Ren is coming, but it’s nice to hear him desperately call out Hux’s name. When Ren is done, his dick slips out and his come immediately runs down Hux’s leg. Hux is too exhausted to do anything about it and instead collapses down onto his knees, realising only then that it puts him at eye level with the creamy splatter of his orgasm on the transparisteel.

“Do you think they saw us?” Hux asks once he catches his breath.

“No,” Ren says as he sits on the floor next to Hux, wrapping his thick legs around him in a bizarre sort of leg hug which Hux doesn’t exactly mind. “If anything, they would have gotten only a glimpse. They’ll have no idea who we are.”

That’s acceptable.

Hux leans into Ren, thinking that they should really move to one of the many couches in this room rather than sit uncomfortably on the floor, but is unable to muster the will to stand up.

 

***

 

Hux doesn’t read the personals section of unofficial daily _Finalizer_ bulletin. Why should he? It’s enough to read a few of the features to get any idea of what is on the minds of his subordinates.

Phasma is the one who alerts him to the ad.

_“Page nine, middle column, third one down. Was that YOU?”_

Hux scrolls through the bulletin, past the gossip and the buy/sell/trade sections until he reaches the personal classifieds. He freezes when he sees it.

_"Missed connection: I was Leader of Besh TIE squadron, you were the redhead being plowed against the windows of the deck twelve recreation lounge. We didn't speak because I was twenty meters off the forward port side, but our eyes met just before you came. I sincerely think you might be the one for me. Please get in touch."_

He sprays his caf all over his desk. After hastily wiping it up, he looks up flight schedules from two cycles ago. His hands almost shake while he scrolls through the records until he comes across Besh squadron.

The time matches exactly.

_Kriff!_

He quickly comms Ren. “Report to my office at once. There is an urgent matter that we need to discuss.”

While Ren makes his way over, Hux looks up the squadron leader.

Randy Hopper. Hux remembers him. He joined the First Order along with a large cohort of descendents of old Imperial families, though verifying his claim was impossible with the Imperial archives in disarray. Hopper passed the exam to get into the officer program, but turned it down because he wanted to be a pilot. Hux nearly spits his drink again when he spots Hopper’s designation number. RH-0690. _Really?_ Hux shakes his head.

At that moment, Ren walks in.

“Ren!” Hux exclaims in horror. “We were _seen!_ ” He thrusts the datapad towards Ren. “Look!”

Ren studies it.

“He can't have you,” Ren states. The possessive tone carries well through the vocoder.

“What should we do?” Hux asks nervously.

“Be more careful next time, I guess.”

 

***

 

That night, when he and Ren are tangled together under the bed covers, Ren starts talking.

“It's kind of hot.”

“Hmm?” Hux half moans. Ren’s dick up his arse doesn't encourage full sentences.

“Someone watching us for real.”

In his sex-drunk state, Hux agrees by squeezing his legs around Ren.

“We should do it again when we know he's watching.”

Hux groans and buries his face in Ren’s neck. It's a horrible idea.

“I'd fuck you in front of the window again. Show that pilot who you belong to.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Hux moans, drawing out the word. Ren’s objectionable implication only fuels his arousal. Unable to fight the urge, he reaches in the tight space between their bodies to grab his cock.

“Yeah, you want it,” Ren mutters in his ear. “You like it. I'm gonna show him how well you take it. Gonna pump you full. Show him your leaking--”

Hux gasps and cries out, shuddering as he comes.

“Oh, Hux,” Ren says in some kind of lustful adoration. “ _Hux._ ”

Ren kisses him, deeply, as Hux comes down from his orgasm. Then Ren keeps going, tonguing Hux and nibbling his lips it until he comes with a grunt.

 

***

 

A few cycles later, they are back in the deck twelve lounge. Hux is nervous. They agree to take it as it comes; if the moment feels right, they'll go to the window, and if not, they won't.

Both of them keep an eye on the chrono, knowing full well when Besh squadron is due to complete their exercise.

Ren is sneaky. They start near the door, where they first deposited their clothing. Ren moves them from surface to surface -- a low table, a bar stool, a two seater couch -- getting closer to the window each time until Ren is fucking him against a wall immediately adjacent to it.

“Fighters will be coming in soon,” Ren says between heavy breaths, then goes back to mauling Hux’s neck with his big mouth.

Hux’s heart rate picks up.

“He's seen you from the front,” Ren whispers gruffly. “Let's see what he thinks of you from behind.”

Hux whimpers. He can't bring himself to say yes, but he doesn't want to say no. This is a new step into unfamiliar territory.

Ren stops moving and holds Hux against the wall. He looks Hux in the eye. Hux wishes he wouldn't. It's easier to pretend not to take responsibility for these things, but Ren wants explicit permission, and all Hux can do is whimper.

“We're running out of time, Hux,” Ren cautions while teasing Hux's cock with his fingertips. The bastard.

“Do it,” Hux chokes out.

Ren grins and grabs him with both hands again. He carries Hux to the window effortlessly. The transparisteel is no less cold this time. Hux closes his eyes and clings to Ren as if doing so will somehow limit his exposure.

Of course it doesn't. Whoever is outside will see his back and arse cheeks pressed flat against the window. There is no hiding that.

“They're coming in,” Ren whispers while steadily pumping into Hux.

_Shit._

Hux clings on for dear life, burying his face into Ren’s shoulder. They're watching. At least one of them is. What if all of the pilots see? Hux doesn't notice Ren working his hand between them until he feels Ren wrap his hand around Hux's cock.

The sound Hux makes is halfway between a moan and a squeak. Ren jerks him off relentlessly.

Ren sucks in a breath. “They're flying by right now.”

Hux's grip on Ren loosens as his orgasm approaches. He comes with a shout, coating them both in copious amounts of semen. As soon as the last pulses subside, Ren moves them both to the floor and finishes off there. Hux glances over Ren’s well-chiseled shoulder, looking for fighters through the window, but they are all gone.

 

***

 

_“Besh squadron leader to gorgeous redhead: was that for me? I'm on a joint exercise with Leth squadron tomorrow. See you at the lounge. Or call me.”_

Hux swallows hard, then immediately replies to the message from Phasma that's been sitting in his inbox for days. _“Of course it's not me. How could it possibly be me?”_

He tries not to think about it for the rest of his shift, but it's impossible to ignore his elevated heartbeat and the memory of how hard he came the day before. Just when he thinks he's done it all, he manages to enter a new level of depravity with Ren. Hux sighs and sends Ren a message.

 

***

 

They're both facing the window again, and they're both too worked up.

“I wonder if he knows that the guy fucking you is Kylo Ren,” Ren says while thrusting in to the hilt.

“If he does, then he has a death wish,” Hux utters between heavy breaths.

Ren grabs his hips and pumps hard. “No one suspects a thing between us, and yet here we are, fucking in front of the whole galaxy.”

Hux doesn't want to tell him that Phasma suspects something.

“They're here,” Ren says suddenly, then grabs Hux’s dick by surprise. Hux yelps, but quickly relaxes into the feeling of Ren’s slick hand stroking over his sensitive cock. “Look at them,” he whispers. “That pilot's gonna see what a slut you are.”

Hux pants against the window, fogging it.

“Gonna come for him again?”

This sets Hux off, and he comes helplessly. It's too early. The fighters are only beginning their landing approach, and Hux blew his load already.

“Kriff!”

Ren pulls out and pushes down on Hux’s shoulder while jerking himself off with his other hand. “On your knees.”

Hux kneels, leveling his face with his splattered semen as he did the other day. This time, Ren fists Hux’s hair and guides his head forward.

“Lick it up.”

Hux turns to stare at Ren incredulously.

“Come on. They're flying in. The show must go on. _Lick._ ”

The fighters are indeed getting close. It will be less than a minute before they arrive.

Oh, what the hell.

Hux licks his lips, then flattens his tongue against the transparisteel and licks upwards, gathering a generous helping of the bitter-tasting fluid into his mouth.

“Good boy,” Ren says. “That's it, eat it all.”

The praise is humiliating. There's little point in denying that Hux will be masturbating to it for weeks.

Ren’s breath hitches just as a fighter -- perhaps their pilot's -- veers towards the window and slows down. Ren grips Hux’s hair tight. Hux wonders why, and a split second later, his question is answered by Ren coming on both his face and the window Hux is licking just as the TIE fighter whizzes past.

 

***

 

_“Besh squadron leader to redhead: that was something. You're big boyfriend is a little mean. Shoot me a message and I'll show you the right way to treat a man.”_

Ren is furious.

Hux, meanwhile, is amused, and fully complicit in letting Ren glare at the passing TIE fighters while he fucks Hux’s face in front of the window several cycles later.

 

***

 

_“Besh pilot leader to redhead: okay, so you like it rough. I can do rough. Give me a buzz and I'll let you be rough with me. Bet your boyfriend doesn't let you do that.”_

Next time in the deck twelve lounge, Ren is on all fours in front of the window and Hux is the one mounting him.

Just to make a point.

 

***

 

Hux leans on Ren’s shoulder, interlocking his leg with Ren’s under the bed covers.

“He really has no idea?” Hux asks.

“Not from what I could tell.”

“And this isn't just a ploy to kill him? He may be a cock, but his record as a pilot is excellent and I won't have his talents wasted because you--”

“Hux,” Ren says flatly. “I'm not going to kill him. Just scare him a little.”

It's yet another step into depravity. Hux lays the blame squarely on his tumulus young adulthood. He is aware, faintly, that adolescents with far fewer responsibilities than he had in his younger years go through a phase of wild partying, risk-taking, and sexual exploration. Those not killed by their own stupidity go on to become sensible adults and settle down for child-rearing and so on. That is the usual order of things. Hux is simply going through a delayed version of that experimental phase, albeit in a more restricted manner.

Therefore, fucking in front of a willing subordinate, depraved as it is, is a perfectly natural part of Hux’s development.

“You're overthinking this,” Ren says as he rolls over to scoop Hux into his arms and cocoon them both under the covers. “Just relax and enjoy the act for what it is.”

 

***

 

Randy Hopper stands in formation with the rest of his squadron. They are supposed to be flying already, but a surprise spot check has them waiting. Randy isn't worried. His superior officers don't scare him. Ten minutes of standing there while _nothing happens_ is something else. He's itching to get going, and itching even more to get back and see what that flaming hot redhead has in store for him today.

His stomach nearly flips when instead of the cute and petit Lieutenant Serra coming to inspect them, _Kylo Ren_ walks into the hangar. This can't be good. Somebody in his squadron must have done something to earn this. He guesses Teech. That guy is up to something.

Ren takes one look at the ranks through the slit of his mask, then stares straight at Randy.

“RH-0690,” Ren says. “Come with me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Randy is terribly, terribly glad he's wearing his helmet. Looking like he's about to vomit in front of his mostly adoring squadron, not counting his two exes who he keeps trying to get reassigned because they are _definitely_ colluding against him, would be terrible for his reputation. Maybe _they_ are responsible for this.

Ren’s stride is long, and Randy struggles to keep up. They take a turbolift to another deck and walk down several corridors until they reach that floor’s lounge. As Ren enters the security code to the door, it suddenly clicks. Randy's legs barely obey as he follows Ren inside.

The lounge is completely empty.

“Take off your helmet,” Ren orders.

Randy hurries to comply, then stands at attention.

“At ease,” says Ren. “Take a seat.”

This has to be a trick. Randy swallows nervously, but takes a seat on an armchair.

“Tell me,” Ren says. His modulated voice is menacing. “Have you noticed anything unusual happening here, in this room?”

So that's what this is about. He should never have identified himself on that personal. Randy Hopper has an excellent reputation in bed, and he fully expected the redhead to seek him out, not play games. Randy has to admit that he enjoys the shows. Now, sadly, the redhead and his boyfriend are probably toast, because Randy sure as hell isn't putting his neck on the line to cover for them.

“Yes, sir,” he says. “There's a couple that uses this room for inappropriate activities. I've seen them from outside.”

“Inappropriate,” Ren repeats, pacing across the floor in front of Randy. “Can anyone else corroborate your story?”

The others didn't believe him. The other pilots also don't dare to fly as close to the ship as Randy does, despite it being within regulations.

“No,” he says glumly.

At that moment, the lounge door opens. Being on edge and not in his usual state of cool, Randy is startled and jolts in his seat.

In walks none other than General Hux, winged cap, iconic greatcoat and all. Randy has never seen him this close in person. The man gives off a vibe as frigid as the planet Hoth, even in the holos, which are supposed to portray him in a positive light.

The General looks Randy up and down and scowls, possibly at Randy's longer than regulation haircut. If he survives this encounter, Randy plans to go cut his hair right away.

“There's nobody else,” Ren says to Hux.

“Good,” Hux replies.

A pang of pity shoots through Randy. The redhead and his boyfriend are going to show up only to be caught by high command. He has no particular care for the boyfriend, but it will be a shame to lose the redhead. It's strange, Randy thinks, that such high ranking people are handling such a minor infraction.

Hux approaches Ren, impassive as ever. He stops alarmingly close, his face inches from Ren’s helmet. Some signal happens between them. A raised eyebrow from Hux, and then Ren reaches up and plucks the hat from Hux's head and tosses it onto the seat next to Randy.

_What in the… ?_

Hux, in turn, reaches up to Ren’s helmet and taps something hidden, and the helmet unlatches with a hiss. Randy's heart pounds in his chest. Something is happening here that he doesn't understand. Hux then lifts the helmet clear off Ren’s head, exposing wavy black hair and well-defined facial features. Hux lets the helmet drop to the floor with a heavy thud, and the two men immediately come together.

Their lips crash and hands tangle in each other’s hair. Ren thoroughly musses Hux's hair, and that's when Randy realises it.

The gorgeous redhead he watched being plowed is _General Hux_. The man plowing him is _Kylo Ren_.

The man about to die is Randy Hopper.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was to the prompter's liking.
> 
> Please check out my [tumblr](https://agent-nemesis.tumblr.com/) for more perversions.


End file.
